


fluent in the language of us

by EzzyDean



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzzyDean/pseuds/EzzyDean
Summary: Kentarou may not be a gifted linguist but he knows enough of the language of Tsukishima Kei to read him.
Relationships: Kyoutani Kentarou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	fluent in the language of us

**Author's Note:**

> the group chat talked about soft KyouTsukki and Cal did the thing already but I had to take a crack at it too.
> 
> 0 regrets.

“Are you sure?” Kei’s voice is soft in his ear and Kentarou growls.

“Of course I’m sure. Stop asking if I’m sure.” Kei sits back and peers down at Kentarou. He has to squint since his glasses got tossed somewhere — the dresser probably — when they had stumbled into the room earlier. The way Kei’s nose scrunches just the tiniest bit as he squints makes Kentarou’s stomach flutter. “Wait. Unless. Are _you_ sure?”

Kei scoffs and looks to the side. He doesn’t move out of Kentarou’s lap but he doesn’t reply either. 

Kentarou squeezes Kei’s hips and noses at his collarbone, pressing open mouthed kisses to the bare skin there.

See. Kentarou may not be a gifted linguist but he knows enough of the language of Tsukishima Kei to read him. To understand the periods in the set of his shoulders, the commas in the raise of his brow, the semi-colons in the twist of his lips. He may not be fluent, yet, but he understands enough. The way Kei tenses and then relaxes against him slowly, arms draping over Kentarou’s shoulders as he sinks forward until he can press his face against Kentarou’s hair, speaks louder than the soft sigh that slips from Kei’s lips after all.

“Babe,” Kentarou says softly, lips brushing Kei’s pale skin. Kei shudders at the sensation.

“Don’t call me babe,” Kei grumbles.

“Precious sugar crumb love of my life.”

Kei snorts. “Oh shit no. Fine. Call me babe.”

“How about I just call you mine?”

Kei shudders again and takes a deep breath. “Promise?”

He can feel the muscles in Kei’s arms flexing as Kei curls his fingers into fists and uncurls them, twitching them in a nervous parody of the way he normally tangles them in front of himself when he’s uncertain about things. Kentarou sighs against Kei’s collarbone and leans back so he can peer up at Kei’s face. It takes him a couple tries because Kei keeps ducking forward but he eventually is looking into those bright, beautiful, brilliant eyes.

“Kei,” he says softly. He’s never really felt like he was made to be soft, not really. He’s made for rough actions and wild inhibitions and refusing to think things through. But with Kei, for Kei, he wants to be soft. Wants to be the safe place Kei turns to when he’s overwhelmed. Wants to be the warm comfort Kei seeks when he’s had a bad day. Wants to wrap Kei in his arms and keep him from the world.

Kei stares down at him with those golden eyes and starts to smile. Shit his smile. Somehow, some way, Kentarou always forgets how powerful Kei’s smile is. How it hits him in the chest and sinks hooks into his ribs and threatens to overtake him. If he were better with words he’d be able to tell people that the way Kei looks at him makes him feel like an old building that nature reclaims; equal parts himself and the vines and leaves and flowers of Kei’s being recreating him into what he is now.

He’s not that great at words and Kei doesn’t want the world to know about the flowers in his soul, he’d rather they just see the thorny vines and be done with him.

It’s just too bad for Kei that Kentarou is stubborn and already knows all about the soft petals curling protectively around his heart.

“Without getting too sappy,” Kentarou says once he manages to pull himself out of the pull of Kei’s gaze, “you’ll be mine for as long as you let me have you.”

Kei rolls his eyes but he’s smiling and curling down to pull Kentarou into a kiss that leaves him aching. And not just in his dick. His chest feels a bit hollow when Kei pulls away. Which is fair considering Kentarou is pretty sure Kei just stole his heart once again.

“Until the end of our forever?”

“Until the end of our forever.”

“Okay,” Kei says and then Kentarou is suddenly flat on his back with Kei hovering over him.

“Are you sure?” Kentarou asks with a grin.

Kei’s eyes light up with the challenge and he presses himself against Kentarou. “As sure as I’m ever going to be,” Kei confesses. “You’ve already been my first for a lot of things so we might as well keep checking things off the list.”

Kentarou sighs into the kiss Kei pulls him into and lets Kei take the lead once again. He’s content to just make out and grind up into Kei’s heat until Kei pulls back with a gasp and nods at him. He flips them easily and holds himself over Kei, skin just barely brushing as they try to catch their breaths. He slowly drapes himself over Kei, savoring the heated skin against his own and the way Kei’s cheeks are flushing. He knows his aren’t any better, that he’s just holding onto his composure a little tighter than Kei is at the moment.

He kisses Kei and tugs at his lower lip with his teeth when he draws away so he can nuzzle at Kei’s cheek and down the side of his neck when he tilts his head to the side.

He runs his nose against Kei’s ear and murmurs, “I’m still a little salty that your first wet dream ever was of Matsukawa and not me.”

Kei stiffens under him and then starts shaking with laughter. He tries to push Kentarou off him but Kentarou drops all of his weight on Kei and listens to Kei wheeze with laughter.

“Go fuck yourself,” Kei manages to gasp out.

“Fuck me yourself you coward,” Kentarou laughs.

Kei goes still, humor suddenly gone, and stares into Kentarou’s eyes. Kentarou doesn’t look away.

“Yeah?” Kei breathes out.

“Yeah.” Kentarou winks. “If you think you can.”

Kei snorts and manages to flip them over once again.

He sits up and drags his fingers down Kentarou’s chest and stomach to rest teasingly against his waistband. Kentarou doesn’t mention the way Kei’s fingers are shaking. Which is fair considering Kei doesn’t call Kentarou out for the way his breath hitches nervously when Kei pulls down his sweatpants. For all his big talk Kentarou doesn’t exactly have any more experience than Kei does. Kei was almost as many of his firsts as he was of Kei’s after all.

Which is why when Kentarou runs a hand along Kei’s side and Kei squeezes lube all over it’s okay.

And when Kei runs his fingers along Kentarou’s dick and keeps going down and Kentarou squeaks in surprise it’s not entirely mortifying.

And when Kentarou shudders and whines and damn near begs it’s okay because Kei looks ready to start begging himself.

And when Kei steadies himself and reaches for Kentarou’s hand Kentarou is already reaching for Kei and it’s okay.

They’re okay.

Kei sinks into him and they’re both shuddering and gasping and hissing curses against each other’s skin as they scrabble to hang onto their last threads of composure and dignity and not both immediately tumble over the edge. They press together, chests heaving and hearts thumping, and just breathe. Then Kei shifts and Kentarou’s eyes flutter open.

One day they might poke fun at each other. One day they might joke and elbow each other. But right now the only thing Kentarou can do when he sees the wet sheen of Kei’s eyes is smile up at him and blink back his own tears.

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling Kei into a kiss that breaks into a moan when Kei can’t help but shift his hips. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Go. Move. Just… shit fuck.”

“Eloquent as always,” Kei says. But his voice is already breathy and Kentarou knows this won’t last, neither of them will last. So he just rolls his hips and presses himself against Kei with each thrust and hangs on as best as he can. Each bitten off curse and punched out noise he can get Kei to let out makes his skin tight and hot and he kisses any part of Kei he can get to.

It’s amazing. Even when they’re spent and pressed together, sweaty and sticky, it’s amazing. He doesn’t want to move, ever again, and he grumbles when Kei pulls away. He grumbles even more when Kei starts wiping them down with Kyoutani’s sweatpants, material rough against his currently sensitive skin. He doesn’t stop grumbling until Kei is curled against him, arm across his stomach and leg hooked over Kentarou’s own.

“Babe,” Kentarou mutters, fingers dragging across Kei’s bare arm.

“Don’t call me babe.”

“Dearest salty pretzel stick.”

“Babe it is.”

Kentarou laughs. “Babe. You can fuck me yourself anytime.”

Kei groans. “I take back saying I love you.”

Kentarou wriggles a little and pulls Kei even tighter against his side. “No you don’t.”

“No,” Kei sighs happily, “I don’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come yell at me over on [tumblr ](http://ezzydean.tumblr.com)


End file.
